The Guise of Gaston
by Shawniexo
Summary: We all know the story of the Beauty and the Beast, but do you know the story of Gaston? This is a tale of Gaston's defeat and his road to redemption. Maybe Gaston just had it all wrong. Maybe he truly didn't understand what Belle wanted. Maybe Gaston isn't as much of a jerk as you think. AU setting where Gaston survives his battle with the Beast. *Rated M for adult situations.


_A/N: This is a fun, adult-ish take on Beauty on the Beast if Gaston had survived his battle with the Beast. Rating is M for future adult situations. Much of the story will be told from Gaston's perspective. For storytelling purposes, I will occasionally switch to third-person narrative. _

_pandasize is completely at fault for this story - she planted the seed and I couldn't shake the idea! Check out her fics if you get the chance; she is a fantastic writer. _

_I do not own Beauty and the Beast nor do I make any money from the writing of this fic._

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It was the worst day of my glorious life.

I had been defeated – an unthinkable notion - by a horrible, monstrous Beast in a battle for love.

A battle for Belle.

My poor, misguided Belle had fallen under the spell of this Beast; drawn in by his evil magicks.

Forced to love him.

The thought pains me. Angers me. I tried to make her see. To see that I was the right one for her; the **only** one for her. You couldn't imagine a more handsome couple. We were to be married; adored by the entire town. I would have taken care of her the way a husband should. The way we both deserved.

But, despite my constant attempts, she couldn't be rid of the magic that consumed her and I was forced to take action. When Belle had thrust that bewitched mirror high into the night sky, the Beast had appeared within it; howling, snarling – it's large, sharp teeth striking fear into our townspeople. Belle had tried to persuade them that the Beast was **good**; a laughable idea. My prized wife-to-be was clearly affected by his curse and her words provided little comfort to my villagers. The women were clutching at their children, families running into their homes and bolting the doors; the sight of the Beast put them in a panic.

It was at that moment I realized. I didn't need to do this just for me and Belle. Of course her hand in marriage was of the utmost importance; what my ultimate goal was. But I also needed to do this for my little town - my people. They looked up to me; held me at an impossibly high standard.

Lucky for them, I was born to be placed on a pedestal.

They needed **me** to protect them. It was a battle I couldn't win alone and I rounded up the men of the village, who were more than willing, to take down the Beast.

"Hear him roar, see his foam, but we're not coming home until he's dead. Good and dead! Let's kill the Beast!" I had shouted to the gathered crowd, in an attempt to fill them with courage. They would surely need it.

As the battle came to a close under fierce, dark clouds, I watched in horror as Belle pulled the Beast to safety, leaving me dangling over the edge of the castle's cliff. "Belle, please!" I called out to her. Never had I begged anyone for anything, but it had all come down to this.

I was begging my love for my life.

She stared down at me; those beautiful, hazel eyes conflicted as her teeth worried at her bottom lip. She began to reach down for my arm when the Beast suddenly whimpered, clutching his side. The wound from my hunting knife – it had begun to bleed profusely. The same wound I thought would destroy the Beast and break the spell, bringing Belle safely back into my arms and saving our little town. Her attentions were immediately focused back on the monster as he pitifully whined and she dragged his massive body back onto the castle balcony. So that was it; she had made her decision. I dangled there in shock. _How could she do this to me?_ We were meant to be together! Seconds ticked by. Maybe even minutes.

I wanted to let go; fall into the dark void below. I had not only failed Belle, but I had failed my townspeople. The curse was too strong and the Beast couldn't be defeated. What good was I if I hadn't won? I released one of my hands, allowing myself to dangle dangerously close to my death; part of me wanting the abyss to swallow me whole. The storm intensified, soaking me to the bone; my trusty, yellow glove losing its grip on the cliff's edge. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes underneath my black, matted hair and my mind was flooded with the things that had mattered most to me in my celebrated life. I would quietly say goodbye to them.

My future with Belle. My prized hunting rifle. My tavern. Lefou. My trophies.

My determined, blue eyes snapped open. _My trophies._ "No!" I yelled into the dark, stormy night. Lightning streaked across the sky angrily as I pulled my dangling arm back up to the ledge. "I am Gaston! Son of Gérard LeGume! And LeGume's do not quit!" I unleashed a battle cry, one I knew my late father would be proud of. I clawed at the slippery rock, my enormous muscles bulging, straining as I pulled myself up onto the ledge. My body shook as I lay down on my side, gasping as my face scraped against the rock's rough surface. Minutes later, when I finally caught my breath, I stumbled along the cliff trying to make my way back to the village. I sat down to rest halfway through my journey when I caught sight of colorful rockets coming from the direction of the castle, now far off in the distance. After the storm's passing, the castle now seemed to be luminous and far less imposing.

I scowled and rubbed my sore shoulders. More of the Beast's magicks. Fooling Belle into thinking she was in a safe place; a **good** place. But I knew the truth. I turned my head in the direction of town and stared through the lush, green trees of the forest. How could I show my face there again? I had lost the battle and the girl.

I hung my head in shame.

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**_A week later…_**

I scowled as the doors creaked open and took a swig from my ale-filled stein as Lefou made his way across my tavern. I glared at him from my armchair, my blue eyes darkening as he approached. I tossed my head to the side in dismissal; my greasy, knotted black ponytail landing on my neck, showcasing the neglect of my grooming. "Leave."

"B-but, Gaston, the morning fowl will be waking any moment and you are still here…and I just...I thought…" Lefou began to stutter.

"I said LEAVE!" I bellowed; a warning that would make even the Beast cower. I chuckled at the thought and met Lefou's eyes. "Do as I say you bumbling fool."

I turned my head away from him once more and fixed my glazed eyes on the trophy wall, listening as Lefou's clumsily scampered out of the tavern; the large, wooden doors banging shut.

I took a deep breath and released it with a sigh. My failure was all around me. My townspeople were joyous; their trades prospering with the Beast's "transformation" back into the Prince. He was disgustingly kind, giving away his riches to those poor bastards who couldn't even afford a loaf of bread. I knew it was all a farce; a trick.

I looked down at the mug of ale in my hand.

_Or maybe it's not_.

The thought had crept in the dark corners of my mind. _Could it be? _Maybe my nightmare had become a reality. I brought the mug to my lips and emptied it in one swift gulp. I wiped my mouth with my red sleeve and tossed it into the pile with the rest.

I hefted myself up out of the chair and trudged into my tavern's private quarters, shutting the door behind me. Stumbling to the wall, I stared at myself in the mirror, scrutinizing my face for flaws.

I sighed with relief when seeing none. Of course I had no flaws.

I glowered at the wall. "But that's not true anymore is it?" I spat out at my reflection. I wasn't able to save the day; I failed. I now had flaws.

They just weren't visible in a mirror.

I growled and lashed out at the mirror with my fist, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces. I slumped forward against the wall, bracing my hands on either side of the destroyed mirror. I was staring at my bloody knuckles, contemplating my place in the village when a sudden noise jolted me; my hunter's instincts kicked in. My body tensed as I could make out soft footsteps on the other side of the door. I listened to the door creak open; I made no attempt to move.

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Meanwhile, across town and on the other side of the forest, Prince Adam's castle was humming. It started as a soft trill, only audible if you put an ear against the stone walls; an after effect of the Enchantress's spell, Belle told herself. It will subside. Months passed and the hum became a whisper. Though the curse was broken, Belle could hear it as she walked the castle halls; could **feel** it. Lingering magic slithered down the walls and snaked around the corners of the castle. Some of the magic from the rose had remained and it was calling out for something – or someone.

Belle jumped as the castle doors rattled. She frowned when looking at the time; it was nearly midnight. Who would be making a social call at this hour? She put her book down and leaned forward in her seat in the library, ears alert as Cogsworth answered the door.

"Madame! You better come quickly!" The servant's voice wavered.

Belle jumped up from the large, blue reading chair, draping her satin pink robe over herself as she ran to the castle's entrance. She gasped when she made it to the front doors. Standing there under the pale moonlight was the Enchantress; her wavy, blonde locks spilling out from underneath her green hood. Pale, shaking hands emerged as she lowered the hood from her face and looked up at the Princess, grim-faced.

"The magic I used so long ago on your Prince," she began, nervously glancing over her shoulder, "I fear was not mine to use." She leaned in to whisper, slender fingers wrapping tight around Belle's arm.

Belle's eyes flew wide. "I don't understand. The spell was broken! I thought…" she hesitated, pulling her robe around her with her free hand.

Glowing pink eyes met wary hazel ones. "Ah, so you can still feel it, yes? The magic has not disappeared as it should have. You see, Princess, I used the magic contained within this to create the spell." She pulled a small pendant from her cloak – it was a tiny golden locket with a bright red gem in the middle. "I obtained this pendant in a trade with a fellow spellbinder. Unbeknownst to me, this spellbinder had stolen the pendant from its original owner." She paused and gently stroked the red stone with her finger. "Using stolen magic has consequences. Even though the spell has run its course, the magic still lingers. It leaves a signature, if you will, that alerts the original owner of the magic to its location."

She waved her hand and the pendant disappeared. "I have recently uncovered who the original owner of this pendant, of this magic, is." She frowned and took a deep breath, her pink eyes flashing.

"We will need to prepare against the one who will come to reclaim it."


End file.
